


The Spark Saga

by astrangelady



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Fairy Tale Elements, M/M, Past Character Death, Referenced prostitution, Refrenced drugs, Science Fiction, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, but nothing at all like the movie, sterek, threat of non con, very very loosely inspired by Guardians of the Galaxy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:46:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangelady/pseuds/astrangelady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re still here? Leave, kid,” Hale says taking a large sip of his drink, not even wincing from the burn of the alcohol.</p><p>“No,” Stiles says, and in what is probably a stupid move, he sits down across from Hale. “If I had anywhere else to go, do you really think I’d be here with you?” Stiles asks, the distaste clear in his voice. Hale scoffs.</p><p>“What exactly could a kid like you even need help with from someone like me?” Hale asks, bored and intrigued at the same time.</p><p>“It’s my dad… He’s missing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Out of all the wonders of the universes, all the fantastical worlds, the bizarre and beautiful species that inhabited them with theirs cultures and unbelievable technologies, what fascinated Stiles most were the old, forgotten Terran fairytales his mother would tell him before he went to sleep at night. And then he'd dream of princesses in a death like sleep and dashing princes rushing to save them with true love's kiss, vicious wolves preying upon young children. And evil witches doing dastardly things only to be thwarted by a hero.   Sometimes Stiles dreamed he was that hero. When that happened he would rush into his parent’s bedroom and excitedly ramble about the adventure he went on in his slumber, waking his parents, much to his father's annoyance. But he would still listen endearingly with his wife as their son babbled about riding unicorns and chopping off dragons' heads. (Unless they were good dragons of course, then Stiles would befriend them and the dragon would place Stiles on its back and soar into the sky.)

  Other nights though, Stiles would dream he was the one who needed saving. He'd be a defenseless prince against a witch, or a young boy trapped in the woods with a horrid wolf. Those nights he'd scream himself awake and his parents would rush into his room, his father always armed. His mother would wrap him up in her arms and sooth him back to sleep while Stiles wondered why his father always came in with a weapon when he should know by now that Stiles merely had a nightmare. Whenever he would ask his father about it in the morning, he'd make some vague statement about always being prepared and changed the subject.

  The stories always remained dear to Stiles, even after his mother had passed away, he'd find himself day dreaming of a forgotten time long, long ago on Earth when it was still inhabited by humans instead of the crumbling, polluted place of death it was today. His father once told him that the only thing living on earth still were these disgusting creatures called cockroaches.   

There weren't any cockroaches in space though.

There actually wasn't very much of earth culture or animals around at all aside from humans. Most of them have long since forgotten the ways of earth as well, very few actively tried to create historical documents of Earth life and culture. His mother had been one of them.

  She was a collector of all things old and forgotten. It was her personal mission to find and preserve every piece of Earth Human culture she could find and pass the knowledge and memories onto Stiles as her family had done for her. She had always made it a point to remember the blue skies and green valleys described to her by grandmother who had heard it from her father. An old place on earth called Poland that her family's ancestors lived. There was still an old Polish flag hanging in Stiles' bedroom that his many times great grandmother brought with them from earth when they were evacuated and moved to one of the Earth colonies.  

It was because of this dedication to the past that Stiles was in possession of one of his family's few heirlooms. An old souvenir pocket clock with an etching of a statue of a woman wearing a crown and holding up a torch on it. His mother told him it was an Earth landmark from a place called America, the Statue of Freedom.  He remembers the day she gave it to him in stark contrast to all his other memories. But how could he not? It was the same day his mother had passed away.  

"Mommy, why can't the doctors just make you better?"   

"Because there are just some things that can't be helped, Bean..."   His mother held him close, her arms thin and weak, and her chest raised and lowered slowly with difficult breaths. Her embrace wasn't as firm as it had once been but that didn't stop him from nestling against her frail form.  

"Who will keep away my nightmares when you're gone?" He asked, feeling weepy and pathetic for asking such a thing when he should be helping make his mother's "passing" easier. That's what his aunt told him, that he and his father shouldn't worry about themselves and just be there for his mother until she was gone. 'Then you can be as selfish as you want when you grieve.' His aunt had said.  

"Oh, Bean, Daddy will be here for you," His mother says affectionately as she ran her fingers through her son's hair.  

"I know… But you’re better at it,” He mumbles stubbornly. His mother chuckles softly and kisses his temple.

“I think I have something that might help,” She says softly, shifting weakly up the bed to reach into her bedside table drawer. He watches curiously as she pulls out a black jewelry box and hands it to him. He takes it in his tiny hands and eyes it curiously. His mother smiles and urges him to open it.

“What is it?” He asks holding up the weird pendant by its chain. It looked old and like nothing he ever saw when he pictured jewelry.

"It’s a pocket clock… From Earth. It’s been in my family since before humans came to the colonies,” She tells him.

“Wow… that’s a long time,” He mumbles as he inspects the pocket clock. “What does it do?”

“It’s supposed to tell time but it hasn’t done that in a long time. It’s broken, see?” She says showing stiles the broken and jammed latch of the pocket clock, keeping it from opening.

“How is this supposed to help?” He asks bluntly as he looks at the etched on picture. “Because this is special. It’s magic,” She says smiling as her son’s eyes widen in wonder.

"Like in the fairytales?” He asks. She nods.

"This pocket clock has been keeping away nightmares and bad dreams from the children in my family for generations. My father gave it to me and now I’m giving it to you, bean,” She says taking the pocket clock from his hands and puts it around his neck. “Whenever you’re afraid or think you’ll get a nightmare, just wear this pocket clock and it’ll protect you.”

She died a few hours later. Stiles had fallen asleep in her arms and when he woke up, his father was sitting across the room in tears and his mother was cold and still. He started clinging to her tightly, screaming and crying for her to wake up, to come back to him. His father had to pry him off her lifeless body. Stiles hasn’t taken the pocket watch off since his mother put it on him, only removing it to shower. True to his mother’s word, the pocket watch did keep the nightmares away. I

f only it had kept everything else away too.


	2. The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beacon is a poor excuse for a bar. It’s this dark, little hole in the wall where all drifters, prostitutes, and felons go to right at the edge of the Beacon Hills colony. Anything illegal or shady that needed to be done was done here. Through the crowd of sweaty bodies, Stiles sees the man he’s looking for, Hale, a Farkan. He’s the one to hire if you want something done.

The Beacon is a poor excuse for a bar. It’s this dark, little hole in the wall where all drifters, prostitutes, and felons go to right at the edge of the Beacon Hills Colony (One of the many small human settlements littered around the galaxy.). Anything illegal or shady that needed to be done was done here. 

That’s how Stiles found himself that evening with 5,000 credits in his band. The bar is full. Half of its occupants are humans from the colony, the other half are aliens and humanoids either passing through or who live around the outskirts of the settlement. The whole place reeks of alcohol and sweat, its overwhelming Stiles’ senses; his eyes are actually watering from the stench. He sucks it up. He knows he shouldn’t be here, but he has no choice. No one else would help him. Through the crowd of sweaty bodies, Stiles sees the man he’s looking for, Hale, a Farkan. He’s the one to hire if you want something done.

“You’re Hale, right?” Stiles asks as he approaches the table with absolute caution. Farkans are like wolves, harsh and territorial, they were not to be messed with.

The man doesn’t even look up at him, just downs his drink of some unidentifiable alcohol that looked like a tiny galaxy in the glass. Must be one of the alien brands since no human made alcohol looked like that. He sees the man’s ears twitch slightly and nose curl as if he’s smelling something revolting, must be a Farkan thing, Stiles thinks. Or maybe Stiles just smells that bad…

Stiles bites his lip and wonders if he should ask again. It is loud in here; perhaps the man hadn’t heard him. But Farkans had enhanced hearing, superior to any other species, so that probably is not the case.

He clears his throat. “Erhm… Excuse me-”

“I heard you,” The man grunts, still not looking at Stiles. He does however look up, but only to signal the waitress to get him another drink. “What’s a kid like you doing here? Isn’t it a school night?” He asks making Stiles roll his eyes.

“Very funny. Look, are you Hale or not?” Stiles asks irritably. He is not in the mood to deal with this man’s shit, nor does he have the time.

“Depends, how much are you paying?” The man asks gruffly, finally, FINALLY, looking at Stiles. His eyes were cold and severe as he looked Stiles up from head to toe. “You look younger than you sound,” He adds flatly. “And smell…”

Not knowing how to react to that, because how do you react to someone telling you you look younger than you smell, Stiles forges on.

“5,000 credits up front and another 5 upon completion,” Stiles says firmly, squaring his shoulders in an attempt to seem… Well…. Not like a lost little kid in a bar where he clearly does not belong.

The man, Hale(Stiles is assuming this is Hale) laughs at him. Actually laughs, not a chuckle or a scoff, nor giggle or chortle, but an honest to science laugh. 

“It’s not funny,” Stiles grits out behind clenched teeth as the waitress places a full glass of whatever Hale had been drinking on the table. She smiles at him and places her hand on his neck, fingers dragging up slowly to toy with his hair. The corner of his mouth ticks up and Stiles can see Hale’s hand resting on her back end.

“This one’s on me,” She says before walking off, giving Stiles a weird look, as if she can’t believe he’s even talking to Hale.

“She sure likes you…” Stiles mumbles under his breath. Hale looks at him again, clearly annoyed.

“You’re still here? Leave, kid,” Hale says taking a large sip of his drink, not even wincing from the burn of the alcohol, nose twitching. It makes Stiles curious. Is it because his scent is irritable to Hale or because Hale can’t stand the scent of all the drunk, sweaty bar patrons? All he knows is that Farkans are more sensitive and are more likely to react to scents compared to humans and other species.

“No,” Stiles says, and in what is probably a stupid move, he sits down across from Hale. “If I had anywhere else to go, do you really think I’d be here with you?” Stiles asks, the distaste clear in his voice. Hale scoffs.

“I’m serious. I tried going to the Proctors, but they don’t care about human problems. Everyone knows that,” Stiles explains, leaning forward on his elbows and keeping his voice down. Much like the rest of the universe, Proctors, the intergalactic peacekeepers, had a distaste for humans. Or as they liked to call them “Earthans.” (It’s Earthlings, thank you very much!)

“What exactly could a kid like you even need help with from someone like me?” Hale asks, bored and intrigued at the same time.

“It’s my dad… He’s missing.”

“Sucks kid, but I don’t waste my time going out to find dead beat dads who walk out on their kids, ok?” Hale clarifies with Stiles, taking another drink. Stiles glares.

“My father is not a dead beat. He did not walk out on me, he was kid-…” Stiles looks around and lowers his voice. “He was kidnapped.”

“I see…” Hale says nodding carefully. “Well tough luck kid, because a search and rescue costs at least 30,000 credits. Can’t help you,” He says cold and dismissive.

Stiles looks down at the table. 30,000 credits. Thirty. Thousand. At least. There’s no way Stiles’ could get his hands on 20,000 more credits. He sits there still and disheartened. He’s never getting his father back. Never. He’s alone; he has no father, no mother… Just a trashed, empty house, 10,000 credits, and an old, broken pocket clock.

He can feel his eyes water, and god he feels alone and pathetic sitting here in front of an ass like Hale, about to break down.

“Fuck, don’t cry kid,” Hale says, sounding so inconvenienced by Stiles’ emotions.

“Fuck off, what do you care? Not enough to help me, obviously,” Stiles says viscously wiping his eyes, getting up to leave. 

“Wait…” Stiles hears Hale say with a long suffering sigh. “I’m not agreeing to help you but… If you tell me what’s going on, I’ll consider helping you for the price you can pay.”

Stiles stares surprised and shocked, frozen in place. “Re-Really?” Hale nods and it looks like it literally pains him to do so. He sits back down.

They sit in silence for several long moments until Hale glares at him. “Start talking, idiot,” He grunts. Stiles bristles at the insult but decides not to snark back since Hale won’t help him if he’s a pain to deal with; or rather more of a pain to deal with.

“Right… So, my father, he was abducted from our house a few days ago…” Stiles says quietly. Hale looks at him, waiting for him to say more. But that’s all Stiles says.

“That’s all? You don’t know who took him or why?” Hale asks annoyed.

“No. I do know,” Stiles says.

“And?”

“And I don’t know if I should say… here,” Stiles mumbles, gesturing around the noisy and crowded bar.

“Look at this place. Do you really think anyone here cares about you or what you have to say?” Hale asks bluntly, but he does get that weird ear twitch thing again, like an animal honing in a sound.

Stiles presses his lips together in a thin line. “Fine…” He murmurs. “My father, he has something… And a very bad person wanted it. My dad refused to sell and that’s why they took him.”

“And who is this ‘bad person?’” Hale asks. Stiles hesitates, looking around paranoid for anyone listening in. He leans in as close as he can with a table between them.

“The Duke.”

Slowly, Stiles leans back in his chair, watching the Farkan’s face carefully. The Duke was not a name one just threw around. It had a certain weight to it, a power and intimidation to it. Most people get wary and scared just from hearing it. But Hale- Hale’s eyes narrow and he looks at Stiles suspiciously.

“You better not be fucking around, kid,” He warns, his nostrils flairing slightly as if he had smelt something bad. Again, he considers making a tally of every time Hale’s nose and ears twitch. 

Stiles shakes his head. “I swear to science I’m not,” He assures Hale.

“What would the Duke want with some human?” He asks and Stiles feels like he should be a little offended, but a bigoted Farkan is the least of his worries presently.

“My dad isn’t just ‘some’ human, ok?” Stiles mumbles, his voice as quiet as he can get it. “Does the name… Sheriff… mean anything to you?” Stiles asks, ‘sheriff’ almost being inaudible. But Hale’s eyes widen minutely, so Stiles knows he heard him.

“Your father, is the Sheriff?” Hale asks out of disbelief. “The Sheriff lives here?” Is his second question. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Look, can we bypass this conversation until after you agree to help me?” He asks agitated.

Hale shakes his head with this strange look on his face. “Fine. I’ll do the job,” He says gritting his teeth.

Stiles’ shoulders slump in relief. “Oh wow… Really? I-… Thank you so much!” Stiles says, grabbing Hale’s hand and shaking it. He glares and whips his hand out of Stiles’ quickly.

“Don’t touch me. Just transfer over the credits and I’ll be on my way,” Hale says impatiently.

“What? No, I’m coming with you,” Stiles says crossing his arms. By the look on Hale’s face, he did not like the sound of that. At all.

“I don’t babysit.”

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t ask you to babysit then,” Stiles says sarcastically. “I’m 19, by the way. I’m not a kid, I just want to be there so I can be sure my dad is ok.” 

Hale doesn’t seem to be having it, because he downs his drink and abruptly gets up. “Deals off, kid,” He says walking off, not even looking back. Stiles hurries, nearly tripping over the chair, to follow Hale out.

“N-No! No! Deal on! Deal is way on!” Stiles calls out as he slips between bodies blocking his way to the exit. He follows Hale outside where it seems to have started raining lightly. “Hale, wait!” Stiles pleads when he sees Hale walking towards the docking ships and cruisers. “Please! I won’t be any trouble, I just want to be there for my dad.”

“You’ll just get in the way, kid,” Hale barks out, but he does stop and turn away, a snarl on his face.

“I won’t! I’ll… I’ll just sit in a tiny corner of your ship. And I won’t talk or move or anything, I swear!” Stiles begs, literally about to get on his knees. He expects Hale to just walk away and leave him there in the rain.

What he does not expect is for Hale to take out his hand blaster and aim it at Stiles’ head.

He freezes, he thinks the hair on his neck is straining to flee, like his heart has just quit and left the building that is his chest. 

The look in Hale’s eyes, his eyes that have shifted bright cerulean blue and glow in the night, that look is an intent to kill.

Before Stiles can even scream for help, plead for his life, or run back into the bar, the blaster goes off, the high-pitched noise swallowed by the rain. He collapses in on himself and he can feel a tremor go through his whole body, head to toes and back again.

There’s the dull sound of a thud behind him and Stiles realizes he’s not maimed or harmed in any way. He stands up and looks at Hale and then behind him where a man lay, blue blood pooling around his head. 

“That’s why you can’t come,” Hale says definitively, looking at his victim. “That man was practically stalking you in the Beacon and you didn’t even have a clue. Everyone else in there did. I noticed him right away. Heard him, smelled him. And you just sat there and went about blissfully unaware,” Hales voice is cruel and low, glaring at the body and Stiles as if they sickened him. Stiles feels like he can’t breath though, like an oncoming panic attack… he hasn’t had one of those in years. He’s known Hale for all of ten minutes and he’s killed someone and caused Stiles to have a panic attack. Great.

“Y-… You killed him…” Stiles says, voice quiet and scarred, he has no air in his lungs to make it any stronger or louder. Just saying those three words make him feel close to suffocating. Hale rolls his eyes and Stiles absolutely cannot believe how heartless he’s being about this.

“He’s not dead, he’s just knocked out,” Hale says. “He’s a Barodar, the only way to kill him is to decapitate him. He’ll wake up fully healed in about an hour.”

The way Hale is so blasé about this pisses Stiles off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Stiles asks angrily. “Even if he isn’t dead, shooting someone in the face to prove a point is not socially acceptable when conducting business transactions!” 

Hale doesn’t even deign Stiles with a response, just turns away and walks off. Stiles lets out an angry, frustrated sound, fists clenching tightly.

“Don’t be stupid kid, just stay home and let the professional get your dad back. I’ll expect the 10,000 credits when I return.” Hale says, pausing to make sure Stiles confirmed this. He nods and with that, Hale leaves.

Farkans can hear lies. It’s got something to do with a person’s heartbeat that gives it away. 

Stiles is glad he didn’t say anything.

\---

“I hate dealing with clients,” Derek says once he’s back on his ship. Erica, his engineer, grins at him from where she’s lounging in the pilot’s chair. 

“Did someone mistake you for a prostitute again?” She asks wickedly, her blonde curly hair piled on top of her head and face smudged with grease from working on the engine.

“That happened once,” Derek grunts, trudging over to sit next to her in the co-pilot seat. “We have a new job though.”

Erica perks up a bit, body sitting up straighter. “Will I get to shoot at stuff for this new job?” She asks, eyes glinting with excitement at the thought of justified violence. Derek almost smiles.

“I’d be surprised if we managed to complete this job without shooting at least one person,” He says with a hint of amusement in his tone. Erica cackles gleefully.

“So what’s the job?” She asks. “Should I call Boyd and Isaac in here?” 

“No, they’re both asleep, we can fill them in in the morning when we leave this shithole,” Derek mumbles shaking his head. He had heard the steady, calm heartbeats and breaths of his two other crew-members when he get near the ship.

“Ok, fine, so….? The job, are we doing a hit?” Erica asks, fidgeting slightly in her seat. Something Derek noticed she always did when excited.

“It’s a rescue mission, but honestly, the universe would be a better off place if we killed the kidnapper,” Derek explains to her. She narrows her eyes slightly at that. Erica doesn’t need to ask the question; Derek knows what it is. “The kidnapper is the Duke.”

Derek can smell the excitement coming off Erica in waves at the news and he’s not sure why.

“We are going to make bank!” She exclaims, her grin wide and blinding. Derek almost feels guilty that he’s about to disappoint her.

“We’re only getting 10,000,” He says sighing, annoyed with himself for even agreeing to this. Erica’s mood visibly shifts from excited joy to anger right before Derek’s face.

“I can’t believe you, Derek! Are you fucking serious? Any rescue job is at least 30k, but a rescue from the Duke?! We should be getting like, 100 thousand credits for that!” Erica says harshly smacking his arm. “Fuck… What doe eyed girl fucking batted her eyes at you this time?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t do that,” Derek says gruffly, crossing his arms, defensive from the accusation. She rolls her eyes.

“Only like all the time, dickweed. Every time some poor, sweet, wide eyed girl comes around looking for help with some fucking sob story and like, no credits to pay our fee, you always agree to do it,” Erica says. Derek can’t even argue because he knows she’s right. “And then we do a job that’s way more trouble than it’s worth and you become the girl’s hero and bang them.”

“I don’t ‘bang’ them,” Derek says disgusted. “I’m not that horrible.”

“Seriously? Seriously?! You don’t even have sex with them? Then why the fuck do we do these missions? Why the hell are we doing this one? Going against the Duke is practically suicide, I know you know that, so why? What’s so special about this sad sack girl?” Erica asks.

“He’s not a girl. And there’s nothing special about him, it’s because of who we’re rescuing that I accepted the job,” Derek says. Erica purses her lips and raises a brow, waiting to hear this special reason about the special person they’re rescuing. “It’s the Sheriff,” Derek finally says. 

“No way! The Sheriff?!” Erica asks, obviously on board now. “Man, how’d the Duke get him? What does the Duke even want from him? He makes force fields and barriers and like…. Any other defensive technology out there, not weapons. He doesn’t have much credit either because he sells everything so cheep. Sometimes he just gives shit away.” Erica says, trying to make sense of it all.

“He wanted something the Sheriff was working on. I don’t know what it is, his kid didn’t say,” Derek says shrugging.

“Huh, interesting,” Erica says. “And hey, maybe the Sheriff will be so grateful we rescue him that he’ll give us one of his fancy security fields for the ship.”

“Yea, maybe,” He mumbles tiredly. 

“Well, I suppose this is where I say goodnight, captain,” Erica says with a mock salute, getting up from the seat. “Ugh, I need a shower, some of us were in the engine room all day working, unlike someone who gets to go to bars and hit on bartenders.”

“Goodnight,” Derek says rolling his eyes. Once she’s gone he leaves a message for Isaac, telling him they will be leaving immediately in the morning.

He sits there awhile, running a few checks to make sure everything’s in order to work in the morning. Though he knew it was redundant, Erica kept the ship in tip top shape. If she knew Derek was doing checks she’d probably smack him again.

When all is said and done and his mind at semi ease, Derek heads to his tiny captain’s quarters, a tiny five by seven room with his few worldly possessions crammed inside. He enters the lock code once he’s inside and begins his nightly routine of removing his concealed weapons and locking them away, keeping one blaster to have under his pillow just in case. Derek rarely slept, mainly because he always felt like something disastrous would happen if he for once did get a deep, full night’s sleep. Usually he lays awake in his bunk, drifting off and on throughout the night.

Tonight however, with the right amount of alcohol in his veins, Derek manages to drift off, feeling warm and uncommonly relaxed, unaware of how much he’d regret it in the morning.

When he wakes up, senses dull from actually sleeping, Derek changes and shuffles out to the main deck to find that Isaac is at the helm, and their ship drifting through space, Beacon Hills thousands of miles behind them by now. 

Boyd and Erica are in the kitchenette, eating some variation of ‘just add water’ breakfast food.

“Morning, Hale. We’re on course for the Duke’s compound in the Dimien sector of the Romyn galaxy. Some of his thugs were most recently spotted there, so I think that’s our best bet,” Isaac informs his captain from the pit. Derek nods.

“Perfect. Good job, Isaac,” Derek says, going to join Boyd and Erica in the kitchenette. Erica hands him a hot cup of coffee once he’s sat down.

“I already told them both about the job since you were surprisingly still asleep, sleepy head,” She teases. Derek growls, making her laugh. 

“I think we should stop somewhere to pick up some extra firearm. Its on the way and we’re going to need it,” Boyd says. 

Derek nods in agreement. "We'll stop in the Oplost district," he decides. He's got a contact there who could give him info on the Duke if Derek bribed or threatened him the right way. Derek usually threatened.

Erica grimaces.

“Oplost is way overpriced and their weapons aren’t even that good though, we’d be better off going to Thi Ko, better prices and some of the best shit you can find,” She says.

“Thi Ko is nowhere near Romyn, going there would add a whole week of travel,” Boyd tells her flatly, hoping to reason with her. Boyd always wanted to do the most logical, sensible route. Erica rarely listened to reason. It’s a miracle their marriage is still going strong.

Derek tunes out Erica and Boyd’s bickering, knowing that Boyd would convince her Oplost was the more logical route and focuses in on the humming of the ships engines and taste of his coffee. He’s just about calm until he notices something off.

“Quiet,” He orders abruptly, shutting Erica up form her tangent about quality blasters versus the cheep kind. He closes his eyes and focuses and that’s when he hears it.

“There are five heartbeats,” Derek murmurs, Boyd stiffens and Erica quirks a brow.

“Five? You mean…?” Erica trails off when Derek nods.

“Someone’s on the ship,” He says. He hears Boyd sigh and murmur something about it being to early to deal with a stowaway. He sees Erica drawing her blaster but Derek holds up a hand to stop her.

“No need. I know who the stowaway is,” Derek says glaring. That kid is going to be the death of him, Derek thinks as he gets up, storming down to the cargo bay, Erica and Boyd trailing behind him.

They don't ask him any further questions, just stay behind him, Erica still had her hand ready to draw her pistol though, always the one prepared for a fight.

Derek moves as quietly as possible into the cargo hold, smelling the air. He caught the scent of dried food rations, batteries, metal and their small stock of bane. It's almost enough to hide the scent of the annoying pest from the bar. His strange, electric scent, it reminded Derek of embers from a fire and electricity. He had never met anyone of any species with a scent like it. It made the kid easy to single out in a messy crowd of scents. Now is no different.

He stalks slowly towards the far corner of the hold, where they keep their water castors. He looks back at Erica and Boyd, who are still there, watching carefully, positioning themselves behind Derek in case the stowaway tries to run.

Derek grabs hold of the heavy castor and pushes it aside with ease, using only one had, revealing the damn kid from the bar sheepishly huddled in he corner with a small knapsack beside him.

"Uhm... Hey..." The kid says, forcing an awkward smile. Derek glares and turns around to Erica.

"How the hell did he get on the ship? Did you forget to turn on the security system?" He asks, even though he knows she did. He had checked himself before going to bed.

"Fuck off, you know I did," Erica barks at him, not appreciating having her competence questioned. Derek turns back to the kid.

"I don't know how you got on, but you're getting off at the nearest colony we pass and getting on the next shuttle to Beacon Hills," Derek says, roughly pulling the kid to his feet.

"Hale, please! I'm sorry I snuck on! But please, let me stay, I promise I won't get in the way! I even brought my own food rations, just let me stay, please," he begs, clutching Derek's arm tightly. "I won't even leave the ship when you guys get to the Duke, I'll stay out of the way. I'll even clean and do manual labor, I'll do whatever you guys need! Just let me stay so I can be here for my dad, please!" Derek rolls his eyes as the kid's pleading turns into babbling.

"No!" Derek says loud and abrupt, interrupting him. He can see the kid visibly deflate at his words and smell the disappointment and sadness. He could even catch the scent of the salty tears gathering in those amber eyes.

"Oh come on, Derek. Let the kid stay, it's not like we don't have the room," Erica says sighing. Of course she'd be the one to take pity on this kid.

Before Derek can even argue, Boyd speaks up.

"I don't see a problem with it, besides, the Sheriff will probably be glad to have his kid around when we get him out."

Derek growls lowly and turns to the kid. He can't really say no to Boyd. Boyd rarely speaks up when Derek makes orders or decisions. Boyd only ever speaks up when he knows he's right.

Begrudgingly, Derek agrees. "Fine, kid. You can stay, but the moment you cause us trouble, I'm sending you on the first shuttle back to your shitty colony," he says. The kids nods quickly and gratefully.

"I won't, I swear!" He says. Derek sighs and let's go of him, letting the kid grab his knapsack. He turns to leave, Boyd following him, while Erica walks behind them with the kid.

"So, what's your name, cutie?" Derek hears her ask.

"Stiles."

What the fuck kind of human name is Stiles?

\---

Stiles can't believe Hale is actually letting him stay. When he snuck onto the ship, Stiles thought for sure that Hale would throw him out into space to suffocate and die.

He's grateful for Erica and Boyd convincing Hale to let him remain on the ship with them.

Erica and him had instantly become thick as thieves. Boyd seems nice, but he didn't talk much to Stiles. Isaac, he hasn't had the chance to officially talk with him since he's busy actually flying the ship, but Stiles knew he was about the same age as him, so it was nice not being the youngest person on the ship. He does wonder how someone as young as Isaac came to pilot Hale's ship though.

Hale. Stiles hates Hale. The guy is grouchy and rude constantly, anytime Stiles tires to talk to him, the guy growls and barks at Stiles to leave him alone. Hale also gets pissy whenever he starts talking with Erica, any time they so much as smile or laugh with each other, Hale yells at Stiles for distracting Erica from her duties. Then Erica yells back that she doesn't have anything to do and for him to fuck off. 

"Derek, take that pole out of your ass and fuck off!"

*grumble, growl and glare*

That's how it usually goes, and then Hale stalks away to go sulk.

"So... Are you and Hale....?" Stiles asks Erica. The two of them are sitting in the tiny recreational area of the ship. She howls with laughter.

"What? No, that's gross, he's like my brother," She explains. "Plus, if we were together, I think Boyd, my husband would have a problem with it. Why do you ask? You interested? Careful, he bites," she warns teasingly.

Stiles laughs slightly, rolling his eyes. "No, definitely not interested. I mean, obviously he's attractive, but... No," Stiles says flustered. "I only ask because, well, you give him so much shit. I just thought maybe it was because you guys were together."

"Oh, no. Like I said, Derek is like a brother to me. I've known him for years, like way before he became who he is now, that's why I call him Derek, he's my best friend," Erica says. Stiles quirks a brow.

"Really?" Stiles asks surprised. "But... You're so cool and he's...." He trails off, not sure how to put it without offending her.

"An asshat? A grumpy bastard? A flat out dick? Yea, I know, he's rude and lame, but... He saved my life when we were young and ever since... We've just always been there for each other," Erica says, a small fond smile on her lips. "Like, no matter what, he'll always be my best friend, you know what I mean?" Stiles shrugs.

"Not really... I've never had a best friend... Or friends in general," stiles admits. Erica gives him ab pitying and confused look. "I was always home schooled, the smaller human colonies, most of them have horrible education systems, so it's better for families to home school their kids. And... Yea, there were kids my age around but they thought I was weird and either ignored me or picked on me...." Stiles explains quietly. He ask ways felt pathetic when he had to admit to someone about his lack of a social life.

"I wanted to go to the colony school, but my parents were very protective, so they never let me go."

"Derek was my only friend for years until we met Boyd and later Isaac," she says. Stiles smiles slightly, because it was nice that she admitted that to him instead of saying something like, 'I'm so sorry', or feel bad for him.

"So you won't make fun of me if I say you're my first friend?" Stiles asks. Erica grins.

"Nah I'm honored, but I'm going to laugh anyway because that was so corny," she says playfully punching his arm. Boyd comes into the room before either can say anything. 

"Isaac's set the ship to drift in dead space. We should get to bed,"'he says offering his hand to his wife to pull her up. 

"Alright, well, sleep tight, Stiles, there's an extra bunk in Isaac's quarters," Erica says, going with Boyd. Stiles nods, but remains where he is. He knew where all the cabins were but he didn't feel comfortable enough to actually go to Isaac's and take the spare bunk. He also wasn't really tired.. Eventually Hale comes into the room.

"You shouldn't stay up. You need to get on our sleep schedule if you want to stay," Hale says monotonously. Stiles rolls his eyes.

"It's not like you're gonna let me do anything, so it doesn't even matter if I'm up at the same time as you guys or not," Stiles mumbles, slumping down on the cushioned seat beneath him. He hears a low rumble emanating from Hale's chest, making him sit up straight. "Fine, I'll go to sleep...." Stiles says getting up and walking towards Hale who's standing in his way to get to Isaac's cabin. 

"Could you move?" Stiles asks annoyed. "Please..." He adds to be a little more polite.

"No, you're not staying In Isaac's room," Hale says stiffly. "You'll stay in my quarters."

Stiles feels his face heat up. "Wha-"

"Not with me," Hale mutters, looking pained at the implication Stiles had jumped to. "I'm taking the bunk in Isaac's room. He gets uncomfortable with strangers."

Stiles' shoulders sag in relief. "Oh, ok cool.... Uhm, thanks, that... Makes sense, since you're not.... into.... Yea, probably not..." Stiles trails off, biting his tongue to keep from asking that uncomfortable question that was also none of his business.

"Not... What?" Hale asks quirking a brow, though Stiles got the impression that Hale know exactly what he was going to ask.

"Nothing, none of my business," stiles murmurs. 

"Exactly. It's not, go to bed," Hale grumbles, gesturing for Stiles to go in the opposite direction where his quarters were located.

Stiles just nods and leaves quickly, not wanting to be in the tense atmosphere between them. He heads to Hale's cabin, shutting himself inside. He notices his knapsack is already in there, resting on the bunk. 

Looking around the room, he notes that it's very bare, no photos or decor on the walls. Not even a rug on the floor. The drawers all had locks on them, which made sense. Hale didn't seem like a trusting person. Stiles also notices the lock pad beside the door. Hale didn't give him any code, probably because he didn't trust Stiles enough to lock himself in his room.

Stiles changes out of his clothes, into the soft pair of sleep pants he brought with a matching long sleeved shirt. He shuts out the lights and tries to sleep. He can hear the whir of the engine. You could hear it throughout the ship, but the hum seemed a bit louder in here. Maybe because he's alone now and not chatting with Erica.

It's a struggle to fall asleep. He's barely gotten any since his father's been taken. And the few times he has slept, he always feels more tired and restless when he wakes.

Every night since his father was taken, Stiles would lie in his bed and stare at the ceiling, trying to convince himself all of it was just a dream. That his father was still here, safe and well and snoring up a storm so loud it echoed throughout the thin walls of their modest home.

It always annoyed Stiles, but lately he finds he can't sleep without his father's monstrous snores.

He focuses on the whirring of the engine. The sound was smoother, more gentle than snoring, but it would have to do for now as a substitute until he had his father back. And he will get him back, he knows it.

Hale and his crew are the best around after all. At least Stiles thinks they are.

'But if they can't save him, who can?'

\---

"I don't like this."

"I know."

"We can't trust him. For all we know, he's leading us into a trap!"

"I know."

"Erica and Boyd are wrong if they think he won't cause any trouble on he ship. He looks like a trouble maker."

"I know."

"And he's just a kid too. He could get hurt. Or worse."

"He's the same age as you, Isaac."

"I know...."

Derek lets out a slow huff of air out of his nose. He just wants some peace and quiet but Isaac is unusually chatty tonight. Stiles' presence on the ship is making his helmsman more anxious than he thought it would.

"We didn't even know the Sheriff had a son until he came along. He could be making this all up. This could all be some elaborate con," Isaac says from his bunk below. Derek could hear the blonde's teeth gritting as he spoke. "He could be working for the Duke."

"I doubt it... The Duke wouldn't send some skinny teenager with no credits and a sob story to lure us to him, he wouldn't lure us at all, he'd just strike," Derek reasons, thinking that might give Isaac some perspective.

"And I trust Boyd and Erica, as should you. If they think the kid is harmless then I trust their judgement," Derek adds firmly. He hears Isaac sigh and mumble incoherently. "Get some sleep. We want to get to Oplost first thing tomorrow."

"Right. Goodnight captain."

Derek grunts in response, saying nothing more. He listens to Isaac's heart beat until it evens out and becomes a restful beating, meaning his helmsman was finally asleep. He tunes into Boyd and Erica, both of them are asleep as well. When his fixes his ears on his quarters where Stiles should be asleep, he finds that the kid is still wide awake. 

The nuisance would take all week to get used their sleep schedule, Derek could tell already.

Pushing all thoughts of Stiles out of his mind, Derek manages to slip into a restful slumber. He hopes to sleep more than five hours for once.

But apparently a restful sleep is not in the stars, because his wrist band begins to faintly beep and buzz, alerting him. He sits up, a blue light flashing in he cabin.

'That can't be good...' Derek concludes.

Derek notes Isaac is just getting up and decides not to wait for him and heads to the deck to check out what was alerting the ship. Erica and Boyd are both already there.

"What is it?" He hears Isaac ask from behind him. Erica is at the controls. 

"Just an an undocumented asteroid belt." She says moving aside so Isaac could take over. "The ships sensors must've felt the asteroids and thought it was some intruding enemy." 

"Are there any damages?" Derek asks.

"No, the ship thankfully hasn't hit any yet." Boyd answers, rubbing his eyes tiredly as Isaac carefully maneuvers the ship out of he belt.

Derek nods. "Good. Isaac, get us out of here and set us back to drift. Then you can head back to bed with the rest of us," He informs. Isaac nods and focuses on the controls.

"Stiles must be a heavy sleeper if he can sleep through all this," Erica remarks as she and Boyd make their way back to their cabin. Derek purses his lips and hone his ears on the captain's quarters, thinking he'd find a heart beat at rest. But.... He hears nothing. 

"Fuck," he curses, gritting his teeth as he rushes as fast as he can to his cabin, Erica shouts after him.

Even when he's just outside his cabin, he still can't hear Stiles' heart beat. He can't hear anything inside the tiny room. He can hear Erica and Boyd at his heels as they catch up. He can't hear at all but he knows Stiles' body is there, he can still smell his scent on the other side.

"I can't hear his heart beat," he informs them as he goes to open he door, only to find he can't. "What the hell..." He murmurs, entering his code into the lock pad. He can sense Erica's worry as the door panel remains shut, the lock pad informing him of an error.

"Stiles?! Are you in there?" Erica calls out, pushing past Derek to bang her fists against the door. Derek tries to enter his code again, only to have it flash ERROR at him in bright red.

Erica continues to yell for Stiles as Boyd tries to physically pry open the door. Derek still can't hear anything on the other side.

Derek watches Boyd trying to grip under the seam of the door with his blunt fingers, but before he can make any progresses, bright electrical sparks push his hands away, singeing the tips of his fingers. Derek hears him hiss slightly as he recoils. 

"Erica, override the lock code, now!" Derek orders, shoving his mechanic in front of the key pad. She jerks her head in a nod and starts to initiate the override systems, ignoring the tiny electrical sparks the came out the sides.

"Almost got it... For some reason the security system in your cabin went haywire..." Erica explains, voice fast and clipped. 

"What?" Derek asks, agitated and frustrated. Erica throws a glare at him.

"For some reason your room's under the impression that it's in great danger and went in complete lock down," She says, continuing to fiddle with the lock pad. Derek and Boyd watch her in tense silence until she finally manages to override the lockdown.

"Try entering your code again," she says stiffly, watching the door closely. Derek steps forward and enters it, relieved to see the door slide open. He rushes in the tiny room, Erica right there with him while Boyd stands in the doorway.

There they find Stiles, alive and well on the floor under the desk, looking at them with wide, shocked eyes. His heart, which Derek could now hear, was beating erratically, and his breath was short and shallow.

"What the fuck happened? What did you do?" Derek demands, looking at the huddled form of Stiles accusingly. Erica smacks him and goes over to Stiles, practically cooing motherly sounds to sooth the ever persistent pain in Derek's ass.

"You're going to be ok, just breathe, Stiles, it was just some technical error in the security system, but it's fixed now and you are safe," She says softly, one arm placed carefully over Stiles' shoulders, the other holding his hand. Stiles nods as she speaks, trying to get control of his breathing again. Boyd murmurs something unintelligible from behind Derek while they watch.

"I... I could hear you guys banging on the door and yelling, and I yelled back, but it was like you couldn't hear me... I couldn't get the door open..." Stiles says, voice a little shaken, but still steady thankfully. "I swear I didn't do anything, I was just sleeping and then the lights started flashing," he says to Derek, eyes wide and cautious. He was probably afraid Derek would throw him into dead space.

Wouldn't be the first time Derek threw someone into dead space either, so his fear was valid. 

"Everyone go to bed," Derek orders, wanting this ordeal to end. He looks at Stiles. "Leave the door open from now on," He tells him stiffly, waiting for Erica and Boyd to leave. When they don't he grunts.

"Right, off to bed, captain," Erica says rolling her eyes, squeezing Stiles' shoulders comfortingly before dragging her husband off to their cabin. Derek waits until they're out of earshot before looking back down at Stiles. His breathing and heart beat are normal, but he still smells a bit of distress and anxiety.

"What happened while you were in here? I couldn't hear your heart beat. I couldn't hear anything, I could smell you, I thought you were dead," Derek says, voice low and as calm as possible. 

"I... Don't know what to tell you, I have no idea how that happened," Stiles says. He almost doesn't catch it, but there's a slight uptick in Stiles' heart. Derek narrows his eyes.

"That's not completely true is it. You do have some sort of idea of what happened, don't you?" Derek asks, stepping closer to Stiles. He pulls Stiles to his feet. "Talk. Now."

Stiles flinches from Derek's touch, hand clenched tightly over something hanging from his neck on a chain. He's quiet and hesitant as he raises his fist slightly towards Derek. "I think it might've been this..." He says opening his fist to reveal a small round metal object. Derek glares at it. 

"What is it?" He asks gruffly, going to grab to thing, but the kid closes his fist and holds it to his chest again.

"It's one of the old human technologies... From earth. It's a pocket clock," Stiles explains. Derek listens carefully and hears no lie.

"Ok, so why would a... Pocket clock be responsible for this?" Derek furrows his brows, earth technologies were so stupid. A clock for your pocket? Ridiculous.

"It's not actually a pocket clock... I think..." stiles says sighing. "I think it's what my father put inside it."

"So tell me. Stop beating around it," Derek says agitatedly. Stiles rolls his eyes weakly. Derek fights back his glare.

"I'm pretty sure that in here," He holds up the pocket clock, "is exactly what the Duke wants. His latest project that he refused to sell."

Derek looks at the small metal object skeptically. "And what makes you think it's in there?" He asks.

"Because, the night they took him, he locked me in the safe room, and he made sure I had this with me. When I asked what was going on, he said they wanted something called the spark. He told me to not let anyone take it," Stiles says. Derek can't hear a lie, Stiles is telling the truth.

"When I was in here, any time I tried to hit the door, my hands were stopped by this force... It was this gold yellow and it sparked when I hit it. But it didn't burn me," Stiles finishes explaining.

"Those sparks, they burnt Boyd when he tried to pry the door open. Why did they burn him and not you?" Derek asks, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"My dad specializes in security and protection. I think... I think this spark, it hides and protects whoever is wearing it. I think that's why you couldn't hear me or detect my heartbeat. It thought I was in trouble and sprang into action," He says staring at the pocket watch in his hands. It.... Seemed very likely that what Stiles was saying was true, and Derek knew that Stiles at least thought what he was saying was true. And with what little they knew, the kid has put a pretty good theory together.

"So if this spark is so important and valuable, why'd you bring it? You realize you have what the Duke wants, if he finds out, you're as good as dead," Derek says.

"I thought... Worst comes to worse, we could use it as a bargaining chip for my dad," stiles says, wincing slightly when Derek said he was as good as dead.

Derek sighs. "Just, keep it safe, don't tell anyone else about this, including my crew. The less they know the safer they'll be if the duke's men get them and try to question them." Stiles nods. "Go to bed. And keep the door open," Derek reminds him before finally leaving to get some more sleep. He would have to deal with this later. He couldn't let himself worry about some stupid kid like Stiles.  
\---  
A loud crash jerked Stiles violently from his deep slumber. He looked around the room for any sign of disarray, hoping something had just fallen over. But everything was in order. He hears voices, unfamiliar muffled voices echoing through the house and then his father's clear as day.

"I don't have it, it's not real, just a rumor, a failed project me and my wife scrapped years ago."

Stiles quirks a brow confused, unaware his father and mother had ever tried to combine their work before. They certainly hadn't told Stiles.

He hears more of the unfamiliar muffles and grabs the shock taser his father gave him for emergencies and tries to creep downstairs quietly as possible, the voices becoming more clear.

".... Duke.... Informant found.... Prints.... Spark...." Stiles makes out from one of the voices.

"They were from a failed project! I don't know how he got that file, but it's old, I should've gotten rid of it ages ago," His dad says. He hears a loud smack and his father make a pained sound. Stiles grits his teeth and sets his taser to full and charges down the stairs. He sees a bulky figure in black with a mask on and lunges.

"Stiles!" His father calls out shocked. The man he had lunged at had apparently heard Stiles coming because he had grabbed Stiles' arm and twisted it painfully, causing the taser to fall from his hand. Stiles cries out in pain when the thug throws him down on he ground. His pocket clock falls off, but Stiles didn't even notice as he stares at the three thugs before him and his father.

"Who are you people?! What do you want?!" Stiles ask angrily, clutching his arm that was still pulsing in pain. 

"We work for the Duke, sweet lips. Your daddy has something he wants," one of the masked figures says. Stiles glares as his father pushed him behind his back.

"Leave my son out of this. And tell the Duke that what he wants doesn't exist. It's not real, I don't have it." Stiles desperately wants to ask his father what this mysterious thing is and why it was causing such a fuss. But he stays quiet and steels his features, especially when he sees that his dad has one of his homemade tear gas cans. 'In case of an emergency, Stiles. Always be prepared' is what his father would say when Stiles would roll his eyes at his father for wasting his time on making them. Now he's never been more thankful.

Stiles prepares himself, the thugs look like they're about to say something else when his father throws he can at them, the gas spewing out of the canister. His father pushes him bodily towards the safe room under the stairs after having grabbed Stiles' dropped pocket clock. 

Stiles can hear the curses and coughs coming from the thugs as they try to get passed the tear gas. His father opens the door to the safe room and shoves Stiles inside. He grabs Stiles' hand and places the pocket clock in it. "Stiles, listen carefully, the spark is real. Don't let them it, don't let anyone know about it," his father whispers fast and harsh. 

"Dad, i-I don't understand, what's this spark? What's going on?!" Stiles asks, voice shaking as he tries to get up, only to have his father push him back down against the wall to prevent his son from following him.

"There's no time. I love you, Stiles!"

Before he can say anything his father shuts the door and locks Stiles in. 

Stiles yells for his father to come back, crying out because the damn safe room is sound proof so he can't hear what's happening. He remembers there's a monitor, with a feed from every room. Stiles turns it all on and when he sees a foggy image of three black figures knocking his father out and taking him away, Stiles collapses on he floor, crying out for his dad, clutching to pocket clock so hard it indents the etched image in his palm.

He can't even get out of he room. His father set it on a timed lockdown so Stiles wouldn't be able to get out and follow the thugs. Ten agonizing hours later, the door automatically unlocks, but Stiles is laying on the floor of the room, curled in a ball in shock and grief. He's all alone.

His mother is dead, his father been taken by the Duke's thugs. All because of this stupid spark, whatever it is, Stiles looks at the pocket clock. His father had told them it was an old project he and his mother had worked on. Except they hadn't failed. Whatever they had made, it was in this pocket watch, and Stiles was responsible for it.

\---

Stiles wishes Erica could've stayed up with him. He also wishes Hale would stop being such a hard ass.

'After everything that's happened, you'd think he'd be a little more sympathetic...' Stiles thinks pitifully. He lays down on the bunk, clutching the pocket watch tightly. He can't believe his father would trust him with something this important.

He can't believe his mother trusted to give him this when he was just a kid! But Stiles finally understood how the pocket clock was "magic" and would protect him. 

It makes him wonder how this spark even works. How it knows when to protect him and when to just... Be a clock. It keeps him up for the rest of the allotted sleep time and before he knows it Erica is at the door to drag him to the kitchenette for breakfast.

"We've got a big day ahead of us. We're headed to Oplost today for some firearms. We also have an informant to meet up for some Intel on the Duke," Erica tells him as she serves him some sort of 'just add water' mush. "It tastes better than it looks, trust me," she says when she notices his skeptical face. Boyd smirks slightly from where he's sitting across from them. Isaac is at the helm. Hale's sitting beside him.

"Cool, I've never been anywhere outside of the Beacon Hills colony, so anything will be exciting for me," Stiles jokes as he takes an experimental bite. And true to Erica's word, it doesn't taste half bad. She grins smugly.

"No excitement for you, you're not leaving the ship," Hale grunts, having walked over to refill his mug of... Something that definitely didn't smell like coffee.

"Haha, very funny," Stiles says rolling his eyes as he shovels another spoonful of instant mush into his mouth.

"I'm serious. You don't go anywhere but this ship," Hale says sternly, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms. 

Unfortunately for Hale though, Stiles always finds room for argument.

"I think you're forgetting that I'm not your hostage. You can't keep me from leaving the ship!" 

Stiles huffs and puffs his chest out, crossing his arms to mimic Hale. He wasn't going to let Hale play the tough guy role and intimidate him into staying on the ship.

"I'm only enforcing your own terms. You promised to not leave the ship if I let you stay," Hale reminds him, an uncharacteristic shit eating grin on his face. Stiles would like nothing more than to punch his perfect jawline. It would be so satisfying to hear the bones crack under his fist. 

"I... It's not fair though!" Stiles argues stubbornly. In e heat of the moment, Stiles is known to say anything to get his way, even if he has no intentions of keeping his word. Hale seems more than happy to make him keep them.

"I don't care what's fair. You're not coming," Hale says, raising a brow at Stiles' clenching fists. "And you can punch me all you want, you'll only hurt yourself though," he adds. Once again, Stiles has forgotten how intuitive Farkans can be.

He looks to Erica and Boyd for backup, someone to be on his side, but Boyd seems intent to stay out of it while Erica has this look that reminds him so much of his mother it hurts.

It's the look she would give him whenever she would agree with his father on not letting him do something. 

"Sorry, kid, but I agree with Derek. The black market on Oplost is dangerous. It's no place for a human," Erica says calmly, though she did seem genuinely sorry to have to say it. Stiles could at least take solace in that.

"This is crap..." Stiles mutters under his breath. He hears Hale grunt irritably. 

"Isaac isn't coming either, get over it," Hale says sharply before turning away to rejoin said helmsman. 

Stiles slumps back into his seat dejectedly, looking to Erica for some sort of sympathy. She smiles affectionately and scratches her fingers across his scalp as if her were some adorable pet.

"Why isn't Isaac going?" Stiles asks, since that comment from Hale had made him curious.

"Like I said, the black market is no place for a human. Too dangerous," she says, giving his a square look that spoke of how serious she was. Stiles' eyes widen a bit though. He didn't think anyone on Hale's crew would've been human. Especially a human as young as him.

"Yes, Isaac's human. And no, we," she waves a finger between her and Boyd,"are not." 

Erica then places a finger over Stiles' mouth when he's about to open it to ask yet another question. "Shh, you will have plenty of time to pester Isaac on how he became part of the crew while we're at the market."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of now, this work is still without a beta.
> 
> TW: For violence (Derek shooting someone in the face, Deucalion's thugs roughing up Stiles and his father)  
> Mentioned prostitution. No actual prostitution, Erica just comments on Derek once being mistaken for one.
> 
> If there were any TWs I missed, please let me know and I will fix it ASAP.
> 
> The chapter ended up being shorter than what I'd planned. Originally I planned to make this a three part story, with the prologue, but I decided it would be easier for me time wise do do shorter chapters like this. I hope people enjoyed it.

**Author's Note:**

> http://astrangelady.tumblr.com
> 
> This work is currently has no beta, but I am looking. Any spelling or grammar mistakes feel free to correct me.
> 
> This is a story that's been in my head for awhile, since Guardians of the Galaxy came out actually. Even though the plots are not similar at all. I guess I was more inspired by the world of that movie and wanted to put Sterek in that world.
> 
> Everything's planned out, I just have to write it. I'm hoping it will be complete by the end of the summer.
> 
> Any trigger warnings that are in the tags will have more detailed explanations for the context they're in with each chapter.
> 
> This is my first story and I really hope it goes well! I hope at least one person out there finds it enjoyable.


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